


untold yet known romance

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, High School, Possessive Behavior, but i came up with this half-baked idea lmao, idk what vaguely inspiring spirit took possession of me, stupidly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: Sansa has been going out with this troublemaker named Ramsay Bolton. Jon, the ever so dutiful and concerned person (and sweetheart) that he is, tries to make Sansa understand she's wasting his time.Perhaps the sullen cousin can make her understand, right?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	untold yet known romance

**Author's Note:**

> *sweating nervously* it occurred to me in my other stories besides a few, i never rlly acknowledged their relation to each other so with this one i tried..... i REALLY did try to do my concept a fraction of a justice. what do you think....

“Why are you doing this?”

Sansa stares at the ceiling, hands on her stomach. “Doing what?”

“Sneaking around, wearing those gothic clothes when your closet is filled with better and more fitting dresses for you.” Jon sighs, disappointed and her heart twinges at that. “And especially with that Bastard Bolton; that's what people secretly call him you know, your boy toy.”

She smiles now. “He likes me, everyone says so, Jon.” She answers breezily.

Ramsay is a huge flirt to her. He’s a reckless boy, leather jacket glinting under street lights; his tousled inky hair locks are always messy because of his motorcycle helmet. He knows things people in her bubbly and elite circle don’t know and it _is_ fascinating and thrilling. 

“Everyone likes you, Sans, you’re a very nice girl.” Her cousin answers, unmoving, his arm bent behind his head and once in a while, she catches the flex of his biceps in the corner of her eye. “I don’t blame him but you shouldn’t encourage him like this.”

She tries to focus on their conversation but the pull has proven to be too tempting. “What if I want to?” She asks then briefly bites her lip, preventing the cheeky grin to curl because Jon glances at her. 

This game between them is far more exciting and fulfilling than anything she’s done with Ramsay. This includes: midnight parties, late night rides through dimly lit streets, skimming hands and sloppy kisses in alleyways.

This, _this_ is what she really wants. 

“About his obvious crush on you, our parents won’t approve of that boy. He has a horrible reputation even when with all the wealth behind his name.” Jon hisses out the sensible scolding because he’s the more reasonable one out of the two of them; someone has to be and Sansa is too spoiled to act otherwise. 

“I’m not doing this to spite them.” Sansa replies, sliding away from him and settles at the right side of the bed with a scowl. “Maybe I like seeing you jealous, reassures me.” 

She says this as she lifts his sheets higher to her chin, an odd action of modesty seeing as how her clothes are haphazardly thrown on his bedroom floor. She’ll pick them up before she takes a bath and quietly leave his room before her siblings or their parents find out.

Jon sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, eyes blazing to a near fire and her blood boils to a delightful degree, as though it’s been replaced with lazy liquid flames. His navy sheets flutters down on his stomach and she tries to not ogle at the result of his hours of training he spends with her brother at the gym; tones abs, the muscles shifting beneath his beautiful pale skin, his inky curls bouncing with each step, and those sinful lips curled like how his hands grip her thighs hitching her higher and higher-

“And besides,” Sansa ventures, unafraid of the hell that awaits them beneath the cliff they’ll jump to without hesitation. “You’re vocal about your infatuation with Val. Why can’t I do the same with Ramsay?”

Jon had the decency to blush. Anyone who knows Jon also knows how transparent he is about Val’s beauty, the sharpest mind in their year, and Sansa often is left to wonder if it’s an act or if he truly does like the girl.

Or if Sansa is convenient, compared to the sophomore genius who doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, much to everyone’s amusement. Maybe that’s why Jon encouraged Sansa's feelings like this, because they both know the love between them is exceedingly simple and lovely to _not_ act upon their impulses and devotions.

“I deeply admire Val but Tormund would beat my ass if he thinks I’m serious about her which I’m not.” Jon answers, catching her gaze when she tries to look away, to stare at the space between them, taunting her. “Val likes Tormund, that’s as obvious as your beauty, sweet sunshine.”

Jon has crowned that title to her since they were kids. People think its utterly endearing for Jon to give her such a sweet nickname. But lately, he says it against her ear breathlessly, pants it on her sweat slicked neck, croons it on her shoulder before he sinks his teeth in to smother his bone vibrating groans, unless he wants everyone in the house to know what they do past midnight.

It’s sweet and delightfully sinful when he calls her that when no one is around. No living soul to see the crimson blush against her cheeks, how she _swoons_ in ways a cousin shouldn’t; and how she had to restrain herself from kissing him each time he does.

But when they’re alone, she doesn’t have to stop. She’s free and he gives and gives.

He arches a brow, mouth tilted in obnoxiously handsome smugness and Sansa is transfixed. He only acts like this in games he knows he will win a match. His fans and teammates alike agree this confidence has founded basis; he has continually proven his superior skills in court.

“And besides, Ramsay has no redeeming or intriguing feature about him. He’s an asshole and you don’t even like him. You like toying with the poor boy.” He mocks.

Sansa glares, not really surprised her cousin knows her motives. “Maybe I’ll like him eventually. Before we graduate, I might introduce him to our parents and my siblings just to see them and _you_ have a fit in an expensive restaurant.” Her dainty fingers trailed and traced the bump of his biceps. "Or would you have me introduce you as my boyfriend to everyone, darling?"

It's a definite temptation and an altogether impossible dream. But, it will remain in a silver locked chest in her mind, beautiful and untainted by reality. 

“No Stark would approve of this either. We're damned, you know?” Jon says, too harshly, that Sansa knows his lying. “It’s the same thing, Sans, but I think you like being with that twink because it’s easier. And you’re not attached to him, are you baby? Of course not.”

 _You’re mine_ is the summary of his words. Sansa scoots closer; basking in the glint of his misty eyes, his mouth reddened from their frantic kisses is a perpetual temptation to her. Her own lips tingle in silent want. 

That’s the crux between them; they’ve known how to pick out the lie in their carefully and supposedly clever truthful words. The edges are barbed wires as he tries to keep the truth hidden behind closed doors and the house being empty in some rare occasion. 

It doesn’t work, never did. 

Val, though not in many words, has mentioned the gossips about him and Sansa. Those huge winters-blue eyes study her like Sansa is a chapter from a textbook she has to go through before class begins. 

Sansa thinks that the recluse blonde knows but doesn’t say anything. She isn’t sure if she should be thankful Val is unintentionally attentive to her friends or worried someone as socially inept as Val has an idea to the true meaning behind the hugs and cheek kisses her and Jon share along school hallways.

“There’s a difference.” Sansa whispers, inching closer like a fool that approaches a dragon, destined to be burned to ashes. And maybe that’s why there’s this inevitable gravitation, hard to miss. The fall is too sweet to ignore, honey on one’s tongue and the taste stays for hours and days to come. Only _they_ can endure each other's fiery tempers, the sudden surge of emotions and the impulse that comes along with it. 

Fire cannot burn itself, only grows bigger until everything else is burned down. 

Jon stares, the usual intense expression schoolmates, classmates, and friends have labelled as the ‘big brother mode’; which means no one should have the intention to flirt with Sansa while he’s around. 

_And no one else should,_ she thinks with a smirk of her own. 

He lies on the left side of the bed, waiting. 

“I don’t love him because I love you.” Sansa professes; moves forward, swallows his, what she assumes would be an amorous response, with her mouth. She smiles as he kisses her back, his large hand pawing her already riotous curls and gently circles his palm on her neck; a delicate porcelain column he could snap if he wanted to but doesn’t. 

The strength in him has never ceased to amaze her and the honourable restrain that goes along with it. 

They break away; Jon rests his forehead against hers. “If you love me, break up with Ramsay.” He breathes, her mouth tingles at the warmth he has always provided her; he’s the sun that a child is convinced follows them constantly gives them sunlight. 

His nose skims her cheek and Sansa trembles, nails digging into his arm as a warning, a plea, and an apology. “At first it’s a joke but now, you’re wasting your time with him.”

Sansa scoots lower and rubs the top of her head on his chin, affectionate and gentle in ways she will never act with Ramsay. A half-formed excuse forms in her mind and it’s enough for her. 

“Yes, Jon.” She sweetly says, buries her face in his naked chest, reveling in his thundering heartbeat, the heat of him, and how he pulls her closer. “Family comes first after all.”

He doesn’t reply, merely _tighten_ his grip on her and it’s a warning and comfort to her all the same. 

“You’re above everything to me.” His rumbling voice sets her heart dancing in delight, at the promise and meaning in his words. He’s too honest, too caring, and she cradles that heart in her hands. “You’re my priority.”

How can anything else compare?

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully it wasnt too horrible !!! (also this is probably the last time i'll write a cousin fic bc i dont even want to put in the cousin tag here sorry guys!)
> 
> (but like if you're surprised they're cousins in love... this is jonsa we're reading about in this godforsaken website. you should probably expect more often than not, yeah?)


End file.
